Vampirism Has Its Drawbacks
by Scherzando
Summary: Both Voldemort and The Order are determined to have the vampires on their side. The vampires are determined to stay out of it all. Humor fic, set after HBP.
1. Chapter 1

The Dark Lord carefully opened the letter, gently prodding the parchment as though it might bite him. Knowing the sender, it very well may have. It read –

"My dearest friends,

I appreciate your decision to include myself and my compatriots in your current struggle. Indeed, to combine forces, to use the cliché, and fight together seems the most worthwhile and honorable deed I could participate in."

He-Who-Should-Be-Hyphenated glowered evilly. Soon, the vampires would join his legion (of a measly 20 or so members. More club than legion, really.) and then he could truly be the most feared wizard of all time.

"However,"

Oh _shit._

"I am not known for my honor. Therefore, it is with the utmost affection, that I must decline your invitation."

Ohshitohshitohshit.

"With warmest regards,

Abigail Boadicea Dementia."

Voldemort's eyes glowed blood-red. Anger surged through his veins, stirring a chant of red hot anger and ra- wait. Was her name seriously _Abigail Boadicea Dementia_? What was she, fourteen? He scoffed, as much as an evil being could, and skimmed the end of the note.

"PS – I have also taken the liberty of enclosing a charm to tell me whether or not your dunderheaded messenger read our correspondence."

Ah. So that's why Wormtail's face was purple. Well, at least the color suited his hair.

Voldemort glared and relaxed back into his theatrically evil chair. It was bloody hard to be an evil overlord these days.

Meanwhile, in the Headmistress' study at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...

Lupin opened the letter and read it to the assembled Order of the Phoenix. He had taken the liberty of writing to the leader of the vampires in a last-ditch attempt to secure their loyalties. She was supposedly very fair-minded, and he hoped that her presence would be enough to dissolve some of the dark fear that most of the world now held dear.

"In regards to the letter I received the 12th of June..."

Remus wondered whether Victorian formality was a prerequisite of being a vampire, or if that was just a show.

"I support, wholeheartedly, your efforts on behalf of 'the light and goodness of humanity'. However, I cannot pledge the support of my people without having some sort of security about our future. Thus, it is with deepest sorrow,"

He mentally gagged.

"That I must withhold my pledge until these securities are provided.

With sincerest affection,

Abigail Boadicea Dementia."

There was a murmur that rumbled around the crowded table. Some were disappointed, some were confused, and most simply didn't care all that much.

"Is that really her name?" Tonks boggled in her usual tactful manner. "It sounds like she should prance around in heavy eyeliner and write dreadful poetry."

"The vampires like to put on a bit of a show," Remus explained. "They feel it's expected of them."

"What's all this about securities?" Demanded a grouchy portrait . "Back in my day, there was none of this 'benefits' shite. They helped us or we killed them. None of this union stuff. Don't even try to reason with the bloodsuckers, just threaten to stake 'em if they refuse to cooperate." Some of the other portraits harrumphed in agreement.

"Well," sighed Kingsley, sitting toward the back of the room, "we really do need the vampires on our side before You-Know-Who can get to them. So, plan B? We could send an envoy or two, offer them their securities."

The room was quiet for a moment. And then erupted with a chorus of "NOT IT!"

Author's note: I will be writing more of this soon, I promise. If you have any suggestions for who you would like to see go, please review (or e-mail me!). Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie Weasley was Not Happy. He had been monitoring the dragon preserve in Romania, trying to keep the Norwegian Ridgebacks from eating the Romanian Longhorns. On second thought, he mused as he ducked a spurt of flame, perhaps introducing a non-native species to the area wasn't the absolute best idea.

But what made Charlie Not Happy was the letter. He had received it about two days ago from the Order, asking a favor. He was supposed to recruit the Romanian vampires to the Light Side (well, at least that's what he hoped the letter had said – the Order's code had changed vastly over the past few months, so it could also mean that he was supposed to defeat the Chicken of Eldoren with three bowling pins and a dirty sock.) The only problem was that Charlie –hated- vampires borne of long-held terror. His mum used to convince him to go to bed on time by telling him stories about naughty children who would be gobbled up by the bloodsuckers after dark. Of course, he had never actually met a vampire before, but he had heard stories. They were Dark Creatures, evil murderous creatures who also made up a large contingent of Honeydukes' customer base (blood flavored lollipops weren't exactly the highest point of the shopping experience for Hogwarts students, anyway).

He sighed and looked at the letter again. He was supposed to meet the vampire leader at dusk in a pub about twenty miles away. Lupin had assured him that he would be well taken care of, the vampires had promised his safe return, et cetera et cetera et cetera. But who trusted a vampire, anyway? Maybe he could bring a dragon to the pub. One false move, and _fwoom_! Vampire flambé.

The sky was already beginning to darken, though, and Charlie pulled on his cloak (with an extra-high collar). He had been to the wizards-only pub before, and it was only a second before he Apparated to its front doorstep. As he was about to walk inside, a black carriage pulled up beside him. Silently, the door swung open in mute invitation. Charlie, however, pulled out his wand and remained on the doorstep (his mother had always warned him about strangers with fancy carriages). A pale, white hand emerged from the darkness and beckoned him forward, but the long-haired Weasley refused to move. The hand began to snap at him impatiently, before finally giving him the middle finger.

"Just get in the bloody carriage, fer chrissakes!" a raspy female voice demanded, grabbing Charlie's hand and dragging him toward the door. Once inside the carriage, he noticed the ornate carpeting and upholstery. All black, of course. The lights from outside were dimmed by black and silver curtains that lined the windows, leaving the only source of illumination a small hurricane lamp hanging from the roof.

There were also two other people in the carriage. One was a shorter, stumpy-looking fellow with a bulbous forehead, grossly wide eyes and a definite slump to his shoulders. The other was a tall, fair-skinned woman who wore a dress that looked like the bastard child of a teacher's robes and a lace tablecloth.

"Zhere is noh need for zat." The woman intoned, plucking the wand out of Charlie's grasp. She tapped the side of the carriage, and it began to roll forward towards the edge of town. "Ve are fhriends, no? You vant that ve help...oh, blow it. You want us to help you, right?"

"We wish to secure your...erm, _people's_ place on our side. Fighting against the enemy and all that." Charlie nodded.

"I trust your people received my letter regarding my fears of what this union might bring?"

They had said something about promising the vampires 'securities'. Safety from, he supposed, the over-zealous vampire hunters in the Ministry. But the woman continued speaking.

"My people..." she gave a dramatic pause and clutched her hands theatrically to her heart, "have been persecuted for thousands of years. We only want to live in peace and harmony, without meddling wizards trying to wipe us out." A lace handkerchief appeared from some hidden pocket, and she dabbed at her eyes genteelly.

"Well...you eat people!" Charlie exclaimed before he could help himself. The woman gave him an icy glare.

"Well, it's not like there's a shortage or anything," she sniffed. The carriage halted, and the door swung open again. "We're here. And I would appreciate if you would not disclose our location to anyone." She lifted his hand to her bosom. "We are depending upon your discretion. The burning times are upon us again, and we must struggle for our right to, um, 'live'." Charlie could hear the air quotations, and hurried out of the carriage. No wonder everyone wanted vampires dead; they were deadly and _melodramatic_, to boot.

The carriage had stopped on a moor ("There aren't any moors in Romania!" Charlie's rational side screamed at him). The man in the carriage crawled out, extending a hand.

"My lady, watthch your sthepth." The woman followed him out of the carriage and glided to Charlie.

"Ve must journey achross zhe moors to reazh ohur destination." They walked along a damp, marshy path, and as they rounded the base of a hill, Charlie could see flickering lights approaching them.

"My children! Children of zhe night!" His companion wildly flailed, extending her arms towards the flames. As they approached, Charlie realized the flames were being carried by more people in overly lacy outfits. All had powdered their faces to a dull white, then outlined their eyes in thick lines of shadow. Many (the women, at least) wore bright-red lipstick as well. The vampires surrounded Charlie and walked with him toward a large structure that seemed to rise up from the moor. Charlie probably would have been scared out his mind at this point, were it not for the fact that one of the more attractive vampires had her hand on his butt.

"Azalea!" Another vampire scolded. "Stop molesting him! He's a _diplomat_!" She gave him one last squeeze and retreated back. They were to the entrance of the structure now – it looked like a traditional gothic castle, but it was roughly the size of a café. The doors swung open silently ("How the _hell_ do they do that?" Charlie mentally demanded.) Sitting in a chair at the very center of the room, surrounded by various occult symbols and chalked lines, was another woman. This one was also pale, and wore a lacy dress that looked as though it had sat in someone's grandmother's closet for the better part of a century. She gracefully stood.

"Velcome to ohur castle. I ahm Lady Abigail Boadicea Dementia." At that point, Charlie couldn't help himself, and gave a small snort of laughter. Azalea burst into tears, and several others gasped in shock at his effrontery. The leader – Lady Abigail – pouted a bit, and groped around for a handkerchief.

"You see what I mean?" She moaned. "No one takes us seriously! We've become the joke of the entire Dark World!" She collapsed in her chair, leaving Charlie seriously bemused. Another vampire ran to get her a glass of water, while some others found fresh handkerchiefs. "No one even believes we're dangerous! We're the butt of all the jokes! Even the bloody werewolves make fun of us, and their idea of a good time is to sit around and lick their–" She composed herself before she completed her sentence. "Well? What do you want?"

Charlie handed her the letter he had been instructed to give her and began his appeal. "We beseech you, Lady Abigail...uh, Boa–"

"Abigail Boadicea Dementia."

"Lady Abigail Boadicea Dementia, to fight for the peace and justice of our world.You-Know-Who has –"

"You-Know-Whom." She interrupted again.

"I'm sorry?" Charlie looked at her. She was sitting up straighter in her chair, and had a pair of reading spectacles on to peruse the letter he had brought.

"You-Know-Whom. Who is the subject, whilst whom is the object. In the phrase you-know-whom, the 'whom' becomes the direct object of the verb 'to know'."

"Ah. Yes, well, we need your help. In defeating him. Er, whom."

"No."

"No? But you have to help, we need you!" He pleaded with her.

"No. It is not our business to interfere with the affairs of men." She scolded gently, folding the Order's letter and reaching for a piece of parchment. Suddenly, the doors flew open with a flash of lightning. A messenger stumped in, and handed Lady Abigail another letter.

"Oh dear, not him again. I am running out of excuses...and look, he says he must have some pledge of support from us." She sighed dejectedly, and pursed her lips. "Do you think we could send him a fruit basket instead? Surely evil overlords eat fruit."

"It sounds like a grand idea, my lady." Charlie's chaperone piped up. "We are supporting his cause by preventing scurvy!" The dragon keeper wondered if he was being punished by an offended deity.

Author's note: Muchos, muchos thanks to Jinxeh for the 'fruit basket' idea! Thanks again for reading. Comments and criticism are always appreciated!


End file.
